


the fox and the crow

by mediumbear



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Blood and Gore, Card Games, Demons, Drabble, Gen, Implied body metamorphosing sexual nightmare man, Kemonomimi, Kitsune, Kitsune Kise Ryouta, M/M, Magic, Mild Gore, Nurarihyon Akashi Seijuurou, Youkai, youkai AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2019-07-10 19:54:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15956381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mediumbear/pseuds/mediumbear
Summary: two scavengers play a game for things they don't want // cross colors youkai AU // akakise





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> the card-shuffling scene and flirtatous gooey kise literally came to be in a 6am dream and i needed to immortalise this airhead
> 
> *nurarihyon is Akashi's demon form in the cross colors AU which is a demon who comes into your house, drinks your tea and starts to behave like the master of the house, to the point where all the residents start to believe that he IS the master and lives there.

Evening humidity clung to the forest, the day’s crisp air turned to dew with the absence of sunlight darkening the hill. Shadow hit the back of his cloak; the wanderer’s gaze lifted from his hands held in prayer, beyond the offering-box to the darkened interior of the shrine.

The shrine stood stark atop the hill, like a jewel on a crown; in these parts of the countryside he had seen such monuments enclosed protectively by the surrounding shrub and wildflowers to give their guardians cover but here, on fine, hesitant grass, the forest appeared to have taken a collective step back.

It wasn’t quite beckoning him, but it was better than standing outside. The wanderer left a measly offering, took one of the fresher food-portions left on the grate, and stepped onwards to the shrine, chewing through the delicate mochi skin with as much care as he took to avoid treading on any struggling flowers.

Cool floorboards, damp to make the chill sink into one’s bones from a single touch. He felt the humidity threaten at the edges of his sandals, but he knelt, and resisted the dampness that sank into swathes of his kimono. The building wasn’t so poorly-maintained -- taking a look at the forest view from a few yards within the shelter, he felt it was one of the cosier dwellings on the mountain. It would do for a night until his next stop.

“Really now, how rude. You wouldn’t treat a friend’s home like this, surely?”

The voice came from the rafters, or so he believed; he wouldn’t crane his neck to look however, eyesight still maladjusted to the darkness. It would have made him look the fool so he stayed resting. No movement was apparent within the walls.

An intruder, was he?

“My host, you’re kind to let me in.” The wanderer sounded out with a grateful smile -- he didn’t know the inhabitant of the shrine, he hadn’t thought to check the name of the site. Something about his manner must have been effective, for the voice spoke again, clearer now - directly behind him.

“Can’t say I let you in.” It had a masculine timbre, that voice, breezy and certainly brighter than the dank shrine’s furnishings would have made the owner out to be. “Did you bring me something? Even humans bring their hosts a gift.”

“I left it at the offering-box.”

“That stale _manjuu_? Goodness, you have poor taste for gifts. Turn and let me look at your face.”

He turned as instructed, and saw yellow, beaming inches from his face.

With the last of the sunlight entering the shrine, he saw it was gold.

A human form stood before him, its eyes slit-pupiled and reflecting in the dusk. A shrine’s rope-belt married a hakama to his vestments, and pointed ears perched high above fluffy hair.  
_Kitsune_ , a fox-demon’s shrine. Earthenware bowls had been left licked clean without any sign of cutlery next to the offering-box yet the spirit stood firmly on two feet. Was he making a mockery of his own existence?

Those sharp eyes widened and deepened before him as though drinking in the whole sight -- the wanderer noticed those pupils dilate like a trusting cat’s.

“Gosh, you’re striking. You’ve come far, human!” He announced, grinning, “Your cloak -- it’s well-made, but you’ve gotten it so tattered in the mud. Look, such a shame. Was it a hard climb up?”

Without hesitation he reached out a very human hand, if one disregarded the inch-long nails, and plucked at the wanderer’s woven ruby-red cloak. He allowed the fondling for a moment, then pushed the kitsune’s paw aside. Its vast brush of a tail batted in-- irritation, or intrigue, perhaps, the wanderer didn’t have enough experience of the vulpine kind to know quite which.

“Not particularly -- I travel to all sorts of places. This is just another rural rest-stop for me.” he admitted, which drew another round of restless tail-batting.

“You’ve got guts coming here and telling me that to my face. ‘Just another rest-stop’! Say, human, what’s your name?”

“‘Human’ will do. I don’t intend to address you personally either, fox.”

“How _cooooy_.” The fox laughed and the wanderer had to remind himself that this was, for all intents and purposes, an encounter with a demon. Despite its youthful airs, the shrine appeared hundreds of years old, with the slightest trace of maintenance keeping the walls standing.

“You’re interesting! I won’t accept your terrible offering, but I’ll take some of your time instead, how does that sound?” He-- it seemed determined to take something from him, but he assumed that was part of the demon shtick, very much like a contract or the formality of a guest and a host. The wanderer nodded.

“That’s perfectly fine. I intended to stay the night.”

“Hmmm, normally when I say that kind of thing, humans worry I’ll drain their life away or something. You don’t seem too worried about me doing that kind of thing…?” The demon crouched down, and he noticed it was wearing _geta_ , its arches upon them taut and long, keeping it a few inches away from the nearly-moist flooring. How purpose-built.

“Is that something you’d be interested in, fox?” He smiled again in what he hoped was an honest manner. “Some of the years of my life.”

“Clearly you’re not quite right if you’re this self-assured, so I’ll pass, thanks. I feel like I’d catch something nasty off someone like you if I took that for myself.”

Coming from vermin like you, whispered the wanderer’s heart. He noticed again the kitsune watching him carefully, eyes flickering as though to take him in from all angles.

“Let’s spend some time together, okay? So, human, what did you intend to do here? Eat my food and sleep it all off? Please don’t say you’re just here to find yourself.”

“No, no, I absolutely am here to eat your food and sleep it off.”

“You admitted it?!”

“So you’ll keep me awake and take my time that way?”

The kitsune folded its arms and hummed thoughtfully. “Noooo, I can surely get some better use out of you. Listen -- it’s been ages since I got to speak this much with a human, I’m a little stumped, honestly. Tell me what everyone’s up to these days, and we’ll pick something to do from there.”

“I’m not… particularly familiar with what others like to do, I’ll admit.”

“Fine, then, what do you like to do?” It seemed put out, like it was getting frustrated by the back-and-forth. The wanderer felt his cloak become heavier, as though it had finally soaked up all the damp of the room, and he thought for a moment.

“Battles, I suppose.”

“Sports?”

He hesitated. “Within reason.”

The demon pressed, “Battle of the minds or of the bodies?”

“Minds… are my preference.”

“Games, then, you like games!”

“More or less.”

“Oh, let’s play, then! This setting won’t do at all, though...”

It waved its curious paw, and what had previously been a deep and dank Heian shrine instantly illuminated; the wanderer didn’t waver from the blast of light in the centre of the rafters that, as his eyes recovered, took the shape of a covered lamp hanging from a neatly painted ceiling. A cascade of warm colour licked down the walls, like pouring-cream descending, to the ground that lapped in a smooth green tide, weaving into the mesh of tatami mats beneath his knees. The kitsune shuffled aside, and where its knees touched the ground just opposite his guest, a short mahogany table formed between them like a mushroom sprouting in a timelapse.

The demonic illusion was dry, ambient, and most importantly, comfortable. The wanderer felt a plush sitting-cushion bloom underneath his shins with some surprise.

“Don’t ask me to do a drawing-room, you never see pictures of those any more these days, I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“Is that so,” the wanderer murmured, drinking in the sight of a display cabinet slowly climbing into view behind his host, holding go counter-bowls and chess boards. “You’ve clearly seen the inside of people’s homes.”

“What are you talking about? This is _my_ home, this is how it’s furnished. Jeez, humans are rude. Anyway, what shall we play?” It tapped its claws impatiently on the tabletop (definitely solid) until the wanderer’s heart felt moved to comment.

“Anything, I’ll learn.”

“What a coincidence,” his host smiled-- smirked, as its lips pulled back to reveal ever more teeth, “I’m good at that too. Pass the cards then.”

As it finished its smooth sentence the wanderer felt something with an edge press against his arm; he reached inside his kimono sleeve and pulled out a colourful deck of cards.

“What can you play?”

He sighed, tired of the endless barrage of personal questions. “ _Koi-koi_.”

“Ooh, good one. Deal them out, human.”

If anything, for the blessed gift of silence from his demonic company, the wanderer took his time shuffling and cutting the deck. Each new turn of his hand and reshuffle seemed to have the fox more enthralled in the movements. Even its tail stood stock-still, brush-like, quivering.

“What will you wager?”

“How so?” The wanderer didn’t care to look up at his now-irritating beast host, but its soft caress of a voice had his curiosity by the throat.

“You’re in my domain, so play by my rules. We’ll bet on something. Although, you don’t have anything on you that I particularly want, so…”

“So, bet on something that you’ll give to me, should you lose.” He glanced up, and the kitsune had its elbows out on the table, cheek resting on a hand as though playing on his boredom. It… pouted.

“You really don’t care what happens to you, do you? Creepy.” _I don’t want to hear that from you_ , the wanderer thought, heart repulsed; he continued shuffling as the kitsune mulled it over. “I changed my mind. If I win I want your form.”

“My form.” He repeated mechanically. It nodded with enthusiasm.

“It’s beautiful! I’d love to keep it around for a while.”

How it spoke of others like flower arrangements and trinkets, he thought. Beyond that, he wasn’t certain how possession was supposed to feel or take place, but he doubted it would go as smoothly as the fox seemed to hope. Cutting the deck once again to stall a little more, he noticed it shuffle closer to the table edge and huddle its elbows.

“What do you want of mine?”

Truthfully, every part of him was annoyed at the needling. What was there he could possibly want from such a carefree, time-wasting spirit?

“Respect.”

It rolled its eyes. “I’m not a genie, I can’t grant wishes.”

“Just yours will suffice.”

“Like I said, I won’t grant the impossible.”

He lifted his head to stare at his stubborn opponent, under the soft light of the ceiling-lamp, the dry walls plastered over damp beams, floorboards to bamboo.

_Such an opponent had to be hammered down into place._

They began play, the wanderer dealing the cards. ‘A handicap for you’, it laughed bizarrely, taking the cards in hand as he dealt them as though receiving individual gifts. Each swipe felt like a theft. He was careful to lay down his first match, unsure for a second if the demon was to treat it like a game of cat-and-mouse. It followed the movement with a lazy gaze, its eyes drifting up to meet his.

“ _Akatan_.” He announced, as though to explain himself, deflect the stare, and pushed the cards across the tabletop for emphasis. It wasn’t entirely clear how much of the game was going to be played by animal, and how much by-- by cognate spirit.

“So early.” It replied, laying flat a matching set straight away. They put them away, drew new cards, and matched again. The wanderer was sure he’d shuffled the deck to fully randomise each half; he considered taking them all back and reshuffling.

“Hey, human… tell me your name.”

“Do you need to know?”

“Ummm, yes, if I’m going to take your form. Nobody would believe I was the real deal if I didn’t know my own name.”

But you won’t win it from me, so.

“Your given name, okay?”

He sighed through his nose. “...Seijuurou.”

“Se-i.” It sounded out. “Ah, _Seiicchi’s_ good.”

Seijuurou found himself strangely charmed by the familiarity. A strange little nickname, like the fox had picked up some inner-city slang.

“And yourself?”

“Mm, you strike me as the type who doesn’t think demons have given names. _Aotan_.” it announced, adding its matching cards to its points-pile.

“Make one up, if you must.”

“I do have one, jeez, let me finish! It’s Ryouta.”

“Ryouta.”

Although Seijuurou continued to consider his hand across the new options, he saw the demon’s face soften, its eyes consider him again, wide as though drinking in what they saw. Even those tall ears, dissonant with its well-clothed form, twitched under the attention.

This wasn’t a part of the wager at all. It was flirting.

“What are you thinking, Seii- _cchi_? Something kind about demons?”

He had to refrain from speaking his thoughts or plainly saying the card match, in case it broke the illusion. Tales of vengeful spurned kitsune-folk bubbled up in his mind, so kindly offered by the catastrophising side of himself. Seijuurou played the match all the same, the cards’ bold designs speaking for themselves.

“Excuse my saying so, but I’m familiar with fully-disguised kitsune. Taking on the appearance of either a beast or a human, so to say.”

“There’s a difference?” Ryouta laughed suddenly, a jackal-like hack. “Don’t you know your own kind?”

“Not in character, I mean -- your looks.”

“Thanks,” the kitsune grinned back -- for the added humanising his given name added, he was having trouble moving away from the sight of those carnivore’s teeth. “I picked them up.”

“Your last victim, I imagine.”

“Oh, no, wow. I just spooked some teens outside once and they dropped a magazine. It was pretty cool -- colour pictures inside and everything.” It sounded so vapid, but Seijuurou reeled his attention back in as the demon played another hand that brought its score a few points above his. It smiled in satisfaction and dipped into the draw pile. “ _Koi-koi_ , I’m playing again.”

Truly, it may be a demon, but it was no more intelligent than a fox. A scavenger in every sense -- looks, speech, clothes, forms. A magpie would have had more class, more refined tastes.

“Hmmm? Are you left speechless?”

Seijuurou politely smiled. “Would you let me think?”

“That’s the spirit! I hope you’ll still be as strong when I take over.” Ryouta grinned that fearsome grin. “It’s fun to have a bit of a challenge, now and then. Check it out, what do you think?”

Patience fraying from the constant interruptions, Seijuurou indulged his host by looking up from the cards--

He saw himself, reflected across the table, ruby-red hair and a ruby-red cloak.

Why was it that his eyes were so bright? Were they always crimson?

“It’s a good look for me, right?” Ryouta’s nasal voice issuing forth from an uncanny lookalike body opposte him -- he’d even shrunk his nails down to Seijuurou’s own flat, plain fingertips, his almond-shaped eyes, no trace of any vulpine interference in the crop of his hair. It unlocked a certain something inside him. The grudge looking out for his survival wanted to act.

“ _Take it if you want, Ryouta, go ahead_.” He felt himself say, dissonant -- puppeting. Ryouta seemed to shrink back into himself, those foolish ears sprouting again.

“That, that’s definitely a trap, huh? I’ll win it for myself, thanks.”

After that, the kitsune certainly lost on purpose, his eyes trained hungrily on Seijuurou even as he played matches that mirrored his if only for the difference in the colour of the cards’ flower designs. A two-point difference and lack of spirit.

“As promised, Ryouta.”

It was like trying to walk a cat; he made a terribly petulant groan, and the walls melted away as though draining down the edges of the building, his clothes flattening where he’d billowed them out for a more dramatic air.

“I don’t get you…” Ryouta sighed sadly, and scuffed the floorboards with his geta sandal. “ _Nurarihyon_. No wonder you think you own the place, a fellow demon.”

“That’s much better. A more appropriate tone, don’t you think?”

Ryouta squinted and shook his head. “I knew you weren’t much of a human, but that’s something else. I took the completely wrong approach!” But then, he sighed again, melancholy. “If you were a human, or even an oni, though…”

“I’ll pass.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> how did kise get that face? he earned it through hard work and talent, of course
> 
> *gore and implied bullshit metamorphosing body nonsense

Little would come of asking about Ryouta's true form, because Seijuurou didn’t believe that such a thing existed. But if he did possess one then he thought he may have seen it, all claws and teeth, darting out from the forest undergrowth to spring onto the hapless victim's back. Seijuurou wasn’t one to turn his eyes away from a gruesome sight, but it was the man's shriek quickly peaking then submerging in froth and blood that was the trigger that told him to turn away. What a tragic sound.

“You don’t like it?” Ryouta spoke in his ear suddenly, huffing at the slightest hint of displeasure. He perched as a commentator at his shoulder, leaning until he felt the breath on his neck.

“It isn’t necessary.” Seijuurou heard himself say before he could help it.

“But I put so much detail into it!”

“A simple retelling would have done, if I must offer my opinion.”

“Seii-cchi…”

He turned to look at Ryouta’s face, mere inches from his and positively smothered in blood. He wore a pout -- although it took his fellow demon a moment to recognise it as such on that mimicry of a human face, fangs and all and those nocturnal eyes reflecting back at him above his red-stained skin.

Ryouta had told him he wanted to share something about himself, since they were cohabiting, ‘and it’s only right to be honest with one another, right?’ -- but this was altogether unnecessary, he felt, his heart moved only to make him roll his eyes at yet another dramatic story that Ryouta could only paint by conjuring a recreation in his psyche. That was the one downside of Ryouta furnishing the shrine with his enchantments for comfort; as a guest, he was subject to every imaginative fancy he took, from storytelling to the brew metamorphosing from one leaf to another in Seijuurou's teapot.

He cast his eyes down at the sorry scene that Ryouta had worked so hard to recreate from memory. It was hard to tell at a glance where the flesh ended and the fabric began, so effective and thorough was the shredding and pulling, the staining, the struggle. His work was flawless, if the aim had been to macerate the exterior of the victim's body beyond recognition, and to leave the innards exposed as anything.

Until that point the victim had looked just as flawless in the flesh as he had done in the images of that glossy magazine that Ryouta always coveted. That was why, he supposed, he couldn’t help but steal it for his own use.

Red dripped down his chin and onto Seijuurou’s naked neck, so close was he perched as they watched the scene.

Did Ryouta use those human jaws? Or...

“It’s not like me to be so messy... I just couldn’t help myself when I finally saw him...”

“You copied his appearance.” Seijuurou concluded.

“Oh, don’t misunderstand!” Ryouta laughed, “He can’t wear it any more, so it’s mine. I’m the only one with this face now.”

 

Seijuurou didn’t blink, but simply patted his back, to signal the end of this gory theatre. With a sullen sigh, the forest scene melted away to return their surroundings to the usual sitting-room, their game room, Seijuurou's living-space as new master of the shrine where they sat side-by-side on the kneeling cushions. Ryouta slumped all of his body -- surprisingly light, for his size -- onto Seijuurou suddenly and dragged him to the ground where he started to snake his hands into Seijuurou's jacket, in the slits of his sleeves--

"An excuse to whisper such things in my ear, was it?" Seijuurou couldn't relax, but he let Ryouta's hungry movements take over, until he was pinned to the reed mats by claws and knees.

"Well! Like I said, I wanted to be honest with you. Seii-cchi never tells me anything, I thought I'd better start to close that gap between us..." 

"What would you need to know about me, I wonder." He sighed. Ryouta's weight atop him was no more than a cat's-- well, a fox's, he imagined. He'd not had the pleasure of handling one with his bare hands until now. With a stretch he extracted an arm from his billowing sleeves and reached up to cup Ryouta's cheek. For the first time since his victory at Koi-koi, he witnessed the kitsune arch and soften under the attention like he was preening.

Likely, that was exactly what he was doing, and making a show of it. He gazed down at Seijuurou beneath long, pointed eyelashes.

"Anything you want to tell me. I'd just like to know." 

"It wouldn't close the gap, it wouldn't do any such thing, Ryouta, and you know that." He stroked with a thumb and dragged his fingers through the soft, golden hair, curious as to what it concealed. It seemed the demon had skilfully worn human ears as a second pair all this time. Such misplaced attention to detail. Ryouta quivered at the probing touch, seeming to withdraw all his demanding aggression with every brush of skin.

"What're you saying, Seii-cchi--"

"That I think you still want my form," He watched Ryouta crumple gently, ears folding, "Why else would you want to know so much about me?"

"Oh, don't--"

"What?"

"Mmh," He looked down at him again, and this time he was trying to shrug the kimono off his shoulders, poorly-tied as his elegant obi-rope was, "Don't stop there, Seii-cchi..."

He obliged, pulling another arm free in the demon's lowered guard and running his hands down Ryouta's exposed neck.

"I thought you might like to know how much it meant to me that you wouldn’t let me have your form…” he murmured, almost sulkily.

The sight of the human's body opened and strewn across the earth flashed back into his mind; his heart could never shake such sights. From above, he must have looked similar enough, his crimson robe pooling around him on the floor under Ryouta's legs.

"Should I be grateful that you did not choose to treat me like your predecessor?"

"I'm only saying that I would have worked hard to earn it off you, mm--"

"I see... It isn't a mere copy of something else that you want."

"No, I'll make it mine, the way I turned him into me. Every part of him belongs to me now. I took his face, I examined the entire body to make sure I was doing it right, you know--"

 

 _"The entire body?"  he_  asked before he could stop his curiosity.

  
Ryouta twitched his vulpine ears as though in pride. “The _important_ things are originally mine, but yeah, I took everything there was to take.” 

"The important...?"

Seijuurou trailed off as Ryouta gazed down at him. 

"Hmm?"

"...How much of you is..." He felt, for the first time in his life, fearful to ask a question, of the one straddling him with only a few layers separating them -- and suddenly he realised he had no way of knowing how much of Ryouta was, indeed, 'true form', "...fox?"

Ryouta tilted his head, a little put out despite his flustered expression. "Like I said, the important parts..."

...

It wasn't much of an answer.

Seijuurou wasn't sure if he wanted to discover it for himself just yet.


End file.
